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great poem and art.
they are amazing birds. I recently watched a thing about a girl who began feeding them. they began bringing her presents. feathers, shells and other things. one time her mother left her camera lens cap out where she’d been photographing, and they brought it back to her.

Thanks Belinda…This poem is my homage to these wonderful birds. I haven’t written poetry in awhile and needed a conspirator to work with. (LOL)

I did see that piece about the young girl! Even wondered about trying it. The crows are as big as cats around here, but I think I live on too busy a street for them to pay us this much attention. I still have hopes though.

You took me right there into that feeling Jana, which seems to me great praise for your work. Smart creatures those Corvids, have you seen the intelligence tests they perform with sticks and treats? HX

Morning Hariod….good to hear! Crows are notorious as conspirators in storytelling. I’m bereft if there aren’t a few nesting near the house in the warmer months. I like hearing the fledglings squawking above the sounds of fire sirens and traffic. Keeps me sane.
There seems to be quite a bit of interest in their intelligence….as it should be. I keep my eyes open for the latest. Have you seen this one?

No I hadn’t; that’s quite extraordinary that a masked human face should stir such apparent anxiety(?), or in any case, a heightened activity. I’m sure you will have seen this one Jana, from what you say in your comment:

Yes definitely Jana. The crows are always up there lurking, hovering above the street lamps above the words. I like that your crows are un-showy. There’s a great poem by Raymond Carver called My Crow, well worth checking out.

A crow flew into the tree outside my window.
It was not Ted Hughes’s crow, or Galway’s crow.
Or Frost’s, Pasternak’s, or Lorca’s crow.
Or one of Homer’s crows, stuffed with gore,
after the battle. This was just a crow.
That never fit in anywhere in its life,
or did anything worth mentioning.
It sat there on the branch for a few minutes.
Then picked up and flew beautifully
out of my life.

I really love this poem Jana, and the evocative drawing is of you, I presume.
There are crow’s in your world, or most likely, you are there, in the crow’s world.
For a large part of the day, we live on the edge of life whilst they are fully engaged. They have seen you,they recognise your face. know your movements, the password…. being.
Thank you Jana, I really enjoyed this post and all the comments, looking forward to watching the videos.

your artwork and poem work so well together. i enjoyed the touch of humor in the last line. interesting to see how many responses you’ve gotten on the subject of crows. my brothers and i took in a crow found by kids in a nearby river bed. someone had cut into the flesh of its wings, presumably to keep it from flying. it talked, saying “oh boy oh boy oh boy.” it responded to affection, bending its head down when we stroked its neck, its inner then outer eyelids closing as it savored the attention. it eventually recognized strangers to our house, walking over to them and pecking them in the ankles. when mom would hang up the laundry on the line in the backyard Connie the Crow would stealthily come up behind her, peck her ankle, grab the clothespin that mom would inevitably drop, and then hop back to its pen to add to its collection of interesting things. i will always have great respect for crows.

Two crows once dive bombed me on my way walking to school. Their feet (or wings) grazed the top of my head as I headed for safety under a bush. I imagined they were trying to take me away. For me, it was love at first sight. But lucky you!…how cool. What a wonderful experience to have and share growing up.
I wasn’t aware crows have both an inner and an outer eyelid. Hmmm. And you were close enough to see this. Wonderful memories. Thanks for adding to the crow homage page!